Very few warriors ever had the chance to fight someone at a higher level than themselves, and even fewer survived. But that was exactly the odds we faced. My guards were all at the peak of fifth level, some even relatively close to breaking through, and yet now they were asked to fight several soldiers above that. The elite of the Dead Wing Legion, Alpha team, as Barron called them.
"Kill the soldiers and that mutt, but leave the filthblood alive," Commander Barron said.
"Alive?" one of his soldiers, a woman with a viciously curved dagger, asked with a raised eyebrow. "After what her elementals have done to us?"
Barron's face twisted in a scowl. "As much as I'd like to feed her to the wyverns, the Storm Hero said she needs her alive." Suddenly, the lasciviousness of his earlier taunting returned. "But she didn't say in what condition. Whoever captures her gets to use her first."
"Publicly? Roughly?" A scarred man asked hopefully.
